Shatter Like Glass The Expanded Version
by dreamlitnight
Summary: This is a one shot, an expansion of a Drabble by the same name. John is trying to teach Dean a lesson about doing what needs to be done, no matter who gets in the way. Dean tries to protect Sam and ends up getting hurt. Angry/John, Hurt/Dean, Limp/Sam


_**Disclaimer: The Winchesters, no-ot mine.**_

_**A/N #1: This is written for Amberdreams****, because she asked me to expand on my Drabble by the same name. I'm not sure this is what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it. To anyone else who takes time to read it, I hope the same for you. Happy reading. ;0)**_

_**A/N #2: Be 'ware of typos. It seems that no matter how many times I proof these stories, there are always a few mistakes still lurking about. Ugh!**_

**Shatter like Glass (The Expanded Version)**

Dean entered the dim motel room quietly. The musty, old-carpet smell assailed him, causing the weariness he had been fighting ever since pulling Sam out of his burning apartment, to overwhelm him. Staggering slightly, he braced a hand against the wall and took a breath. He stood still, until he had himself back under control. He really hated how these ancient motels always smelled. Truth to tell, he was tired of all of this. It would be nice to have a house somewhere, clean and, and just, a home. He knew that was an unrealistic fantasy at this point, something he only allowed himself to think about late at night, as he drifted off to sleep. There was no time for what he wanted, he had Sam to think about, and his dad showing up out of nowhere.

Dean had been trying to find him for weeks and now he just happens to show up at the same motel a few hours after they check in. A little too much coincidence for Dean. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he pushed away from the support of the wall and his own self pity and made his way over to the chair across from his dad. As he dropped onto it, his dad finally looked up from the journal he was studying.

"What did Sammy say? You talk to him?" John snapped at him.

"He's, uh, he's sleeping Dad." He answered tiredly.

"Sleeping?!.... Dean, I need information. I need to know what he knows."

"He's a little fragile right now."

"So, you didn't even question him about it yet did you?" His dad sounded angry and impatient. He was using the patented, John Winchester Marine voice. The, "I gave you an order son, do it now" tone that usually had Dean quickly doing whatever he had been asked to do and Sam doing the exact opposite.

But Dean was just too worried about his brother right now and a little leery of his dad showing up like this, to do the usual. So the "voice" wasn't working. "Look Dad." Dean spoke quietly. "We just need to leave him alone for a little while. How did you even know we were here anyway? I've been trying to find you for weeks."

"Dean, I just, knew. Okay. Let's just leave it at that." John was getting agitated, with his older son's unusual lack of cooperation. He spoke in a strained voice. "Right now, Sammy may know something, some clue, he's not even aware of. This is the best chance of a lead that I've had on that yellow eyed sucker in months. This.... what happened to that girl, like your mom... I need to find out why it happened again." John leaned forward in his chair.

"Jess, Dad. Her name was Jess.... and Sam is... he's pretty torn up right now..."

"Son." John interrupted abruptly. "We have to use every weapon at our disposal. I've been trying to teach you that for most of your life. This is a war... that... that monster is our enemy and Sammy could be our, best weapon."

"No Dad." Shaking his head. "That lesson, no. You don't use family as weapons. I won't use Sammy like that."

"I will. I will do, whatever it takes to win this. Dean you have got to toughen up."

"Listen to yourself. You want to use your own son? Your grieving son? The son that you haven't even seen in 4 years? Just, just use him when he's all messed up?"

"Dean, Sammy will understand. He and I have .... something in common now. That thing has to be stopped. War is not pretty. That's why it's called, War. Haven't I taught you that? You have to be willing to, do what has to be done in order to win. I'm willing to do what it takes." John paused and stared intently at his oldest son. "If you're not going to help me, then you need to get out of my way."

A sad smirk. "No."

"What did you say?" John laid his journal aside and sat up straighter, his voice gruff as he questioned what he had heard.

"I said, No. I am not letting you use him in this... war. You got to look at the bigger picture Dad. Mom's gone, but you still have a family. If you don't start worrying about them once in awhile.... you might lose more than you, you think you're willing to give." Sitting up in his chair, he met his dad's stare without flinching.

"I know what I'm doing. Got me?"

Green eyes glittered in determination. "I'm not letting you hurt him right now. Got me?"

"I think you better watch your tone." John's voice deepened as he spoke.

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face again, trying to ease the exhaustion weighing him down. He was so worn out he could barely think. He wished his dad would just let them all rest tonight and start this, "Do things my way" stuff in the morning. "I'm sorry Dad, but you need to back off."

John stood up and paced the length of the room and back. Reluctantly, Dean stood up to face him. His dad spoke to him as a teacher trying to correct a slow student.

"You have got to know everyone's weaknesses, your enemy's as well as your friend's and especially your family's. Their weaknesses can be used against you, just as easy as yours can. Son, what's Sam's weakness?"

"What? Why?" he asked in confusion, trying to follow his dad's train of thought.

"Answer the question. What is Sam's weakness?" John repeated sternly.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he finally answered, "Uh, his geek-ness, maybe. He always has to know everything." Dean's lips quirked. "Or his stubborness... Dad I don't know." He huffed. "I mean I haven't even been around the kid much these last few years. Why are you..."

John interrupted. "What's mine?"

Dean snorted, "I don't think you have one Dad."

John's mouth curved up in a half smile. "Everyone has one. What's yours Dean?"

A smirk lit his tired face. "Uh, you mean besides my stunning good looks always getting in the way?"

"Yeah." John answered sarcastically.

"Maybe my, my jaw. My glass jaw. Stupid thing can't even take a tap, and I'm sure you're gonna tell me about my other weaknesses." He muttered.

John ignored the complaint. "Ya Think Sam would use your glass jaw against you?"

Dean frowns, "I don't know... he's my brother."

John just waits in silence.

Dean shrugs, then admits softly in defeat, meeting his dad's somber gaze. "He might."

"No might. I _know_ he would, if he had no choice."

"Okay. He _might_... But there's always a choice Dad. So, what's your point? I mean what does this have to do with anything?" Dean asked in frustration.

"My point?" John let out a weary sigh. Walking over to face his son, he reached out a large hand and clasped Dean's shoulder firmly. "I have been trying to get you to see that you can't let your heart rule your head. You have to make the right choice. You are too soft sometimes Dean, especially with your brother. I want you to learn to use a weakness as a weapon when the situation calls for it, even if it's your brother or me."

"Dad?" Wary green eyes meet resolute brown eyes. "I'm not sure what you're getting at..." His voice trailed off in trepidation.

John sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, there was steely determination in his stare. "I'm sorry son." John said gruffly.

Dean's eyes widened in alarm at his dad's strange behavior. "Huh?" He asked trying to back away.

There's was no time to react as John's powerful fist flew towards him. With bruising force it met its target, his "glass" jaw...

Dean's thoughts swirled in bright colors and tangled paths. _Hmmm, doesn't hurt much. _In fact the only pain he was feeling, seemed to be coming from his heart... it was shattering. It sounded like glass breaking and it felt like it too. Knife-edged shards piercing him from the inside out. _Weird... he thought only his jaw was glass_. ... His head snapped sharply, eyes rolling back and knees buckling. He folded, going a limp as a rag doll. He felt strong arms catch him. _Betrayal. How could his own dad, his family do this? Dad used his weakness as a weapon against him, his son. _Dean felt the darkness blotting out the light... Wondered_ dazedly.__Why did the two people he loved the most in the world, always seemed to be knocking him down? ... might not be able to get up the next time...was h_is last thought, as he succombed to oblivion.

John carefully lowered his son to the floor, making sure his breathing wasn't labored or distressed sounding. He laid his palm gently on his son's already swelling face. _He hated some of the things he did for the sake of this war. _Regretting that he hadn't pulled the punch a little more, he thought sadly_, __Dean would__ have a nice bruise when he woke up._ With one last look, he stood up. He should have about 20-30 minutes. Usually that's about how long it took his oldest son to be coherent again after getting hit on that sensitive spot. He was willing to do things, that were difficult. Maybe that was wrong, but in the end it would be worth it. That monster would be destroyed and his boys would be safe. At least, a whole lot safer than they were now. If Sammy had any information that would help, he would get it, the information that Dean was too weak to get for him. After that he would be on his way.

As he left his oldest son lying on the floor unconscious and went to the other room to interrogate his younger son, he worried... _Maybe I've been too soft on my boys. Dean's heart always seems to hold him back a little. _He frowned fiercly, and vowed to be tougher._ I will do whatever it takes to get this done. My boys have to be strong enough to survive. _John opened the door and stepped inside spotting Sammy curled up on one of the beds, his shoulders hunched and shaking slightly. John squared his own shoulders and stepped closer._ He would make sure that his boys were strong. Whatever it cost him, or them, it would be worth it in the end. He had to believe that._

"Son. I need to talk to you." He said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended.

Sam turned to look at him, his face wet with tears. His eyes, so like his brother's, desolate and full of pain.

John ignored his instinct to offer comfort. Instead he sat down on the opposite bed and prepared to do what needed to be done, just like he had for the last 22 years.

**_The End~ Thank you for reading and reviewing. Every review received is much appreciated. ;0)_**


End file.
